


Meant To Be a Warrior

by seizethelight



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Affection, Kink Meme, M/M, No Angst, PWP, Parent/Child Incest, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethelight/pseuds/seizethelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chuck is thankful that Herc lives up to his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meant To Be a Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Some non-angsty PWP, filling [this prompt](http://pacificrimkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/87889815260/hansencest-strength-kink).
> 
> _Hansencest, Strength!Kink_
> 
> _Chuck just really gets off on how strong Herc is; whether it’s holding him down, fucking him against a wall, whatever, it’s up to you._

It’s Herc’s fingers pressed into his hips, the little blue marks shaped like pennies that stay put for days. Chuck outweighs him by at least a few kilos, but his old man is strong, the muscle and sinew knit together that can hoist him, lift Chuck up with nothing more than a guttural noise from Herc’s throat. It’s how Herc’s hands guide Chuck with practiced ease, arrange him on elbows and knees, flat palm at the base of his spine holding him still. It’s how Chuck responds to that rough, scraped over pavement voice, his head falling back, baring his throat for Herc’s lips to trace. 

And maybe it’s the idea of that strength being unleashed on Chuck, even though it never is, that does the most for him. He’s not brutal, Herc. He’s controlled and deliberate in his movements, the smooth glide of his hips, the iron circle of his hand holding Chuck’s wrists firm, the spread of his body over Chuck’s, curved around him. He can be punishing, Chuck’s seen the smackdown Herc can give a bag in the gym or the force with which he takes opponents in the Kwoon. But Herc isn’t that way with Chuck. He doesn’t treat Chuck like he’s made of glass, he prods and directs and pushes him exactly where he wants him. But the idea that Herc _could_ lay Chuck flat with one hooked ankle, could snap bones solely with the force of his fists, and doesn’t? God, that turns Chuck on. 

It’s another element of danger atop an already taboo situation, and the thrill gets him off every time. 

Herc’s got Chuck pinned against the door in their quarters, thighs spread, supporting Chuck’s weight. He’s thrusting up through cotton and twill, hips rhythmically jutting against Chuck and Chuck can feel how hard Herc is, moans at Herc circling against his hole, close but still so maddeningly far away, separated by about four too many layers of cloth. 

Then Herc wraps his arms around Chuck, orders him to hold on, and swings Chuck with his ankles locked around the small of Herc’s back to where their bed sits a few meters away. 

Jerking the covers back, Herc lays Chuck down, strips him out of his clothes and boots, dispensing with his own. Big hands grasp behind Chuck’s knees, push them towards his chest, and Herc drags his thumb down the length of Chuck’s aching cock, around his balls, rubs against his waiting hole. Chuck’s hips jump at the contact, tries to ignore the satisfied smirk on Herc’s lips, just pushes forward for more. Herc’s other hand finds lube, clicks the bottle open. Chuck’s making that noise again, the guttural, pained one he knows Herc loves when Herc takes a moment to coat his fingers. Chuck’s mind knows it’s for his own benefit, but his body craves to be filled, stretched, ready for Herc to push inside of him. 

“Every time.” Herc’s expression is smug but his movements are sympathetic, pressing into Chuck. “My greedy boy.” Chuck just nods, eyes squeezed shut as he writhes up, tries to bring Herc’s fingers closer to where he needs them. They slide away and Chuck grunts in frustration, twists his hips to try and gain more contact. 

Herc’s other hand settles on Chuck’s pelvis, lies flat over the pale skin, just shy of the slick drops Chuck’s cock is leaking onto his belly. 

“Chuck.” 

It’s all he needs to say, holding Chuck fast, keeping him still with the weight of his palm. The idea of the possible force behind it burns hot in Chuck’s stomach, trails of warmth that follow in the wake of Herc’s fingers pressing inside of him. The texture of them is rough, a needed friction pushing into Chuck’s body, something he can cling to, search out to relieve that knot of tension inside of him. They don’t bother starting with one anymore, he’s panting for two-three- _more_ as soon as possible, so Herc slides two inside of him straightaway, rubs them together, a wriggly ache building inside of Chuck. He doesn’t even have to piston them in and out, just holding them there, holding Chuck open, keeping him panting and frustrated is perfect. 

His cock throbs with want, and Chuck wants to reach down, circle himself with a practiced fist, but he knows Herc would bat his hand away, would tell him to hold still, so he doesn’t bother. It’s a game, it’s always a game, there’s no power struggle really, just the tease of it is enough. Their lines are already blurred past the point of invisibility. Chuck can listen to Herc, _does_ listen to Herc when it really matters (and when it really doesn’t, too.). He doesn’t have to be threatened or bribed to do what Herc wants of him, but that guidance, that strength Herc has over him, bodily and mentally, that’s what does it for Chuck. 

“How we doing?” Herc’s voice pierces the jumble of Chuck’s thoughts and feelings, an anchor amidst all the things he’d never say. 

“Think ‘m good.” Chuck jerks his hips up, and Herc spread his fingers a little. “I can take more.” 

“More?” Chuck doesn’t have to crack an eye to see the smirk on Herc’s lips, he _knows_ the expression intimately.

“More, please.” Chuck’s rewarded for the effort with a shallow thrust, clever fingers that search out exactly where he needs to be touched, and the sensation is like a wave that engulfs him. He wants to reach down, hold Herc’s wrist close, force him to give him more, but he knows that would be futile. Besides, Herc knows what Chuck needs, he knows how to take care of his boy, he just _knows_ , which is why Herc starts moving when Chuck groans, starts crooking up, starts fucking him in earnest with his long fingers.

“That more to your liking?” His other hand wraps around Chuck when he ups the pace, circles Chuck down at the base of his cock, tempers the burning need to come down to a dull throb. Chuck whimpers, wants so badly, but Herc just clicks his tongue. 

“You coming around me, that’s much better, yeah? Just warming you up.” The last four words are punctuated with another finger, hard thrusts, and vise grip around his dick or not, Chuck’s ready to shoot off. That’s when Herc pulls away completely, leaving Chuck’s hips free to pump up into empty air and his eyes fly open, search out Herc.

Herc’s stripped down, slicking himself with a palmful of lube, kneels on the bed between Chuck’s widespread thighs. Taking his cock in hand, he moves close, lines up, and leans down to press a kiss to Chuck’s mouth when he starts to slide in. The tender gesture takes Chuck by complete surprise, which is Herc’s intent, because in an instant, he’s pushed back on his heels, grabbing Chuck by the hips and pulling him up to meet him instead of moving forward. The shift in gravity and the sensation of Herc filling him up, the dull pressure of his hands pressing into Chuck’s skin, the way Herc’s head tips back just for a moment, it’s almost too much to take. Chuck clenches down, tries to stave off the fall, and Herc’s talking to him through it all.

“Don’t. Not yet,” is all he can make out, but he just blindly nods. He can feel his muscles aching from the strain of holding taut, knows he’s going to feel like a stretched out rubber band tomorrow, wincing with each movement. And he’ll catch Herc’s eye, a proud, proprietary gleam in them, smug knowing that Chuck’s discomfort is his doing. And Chuck wants it so bad, almost as much as he wants to come. He’s putty now in Herc’s capable hands, just lets Herc guide him to where he wants him, he can’t fight it off anymore even if he wanted to. The insistent push and pull of Herc’s body against his, the blunt thrusts teasing him, making him grind down for more, turn Chuck into a whimpering, panting mess, begging Herc to let him come. 

Chuck says please more times than he can count, can feel it build to the point that the only place left to go is down, over the edge. 

“Almost there, Chuck, almost there.” He can feel Herc’s arms pull him up, arrange his legs to push deep when Herc tells Chuck to come. His body tenses all over, rigid and tight around Herc before it releases, before Chuck feels a pulsing stream hit his stomach. Then Herc’s pounding into him again, muscles fluttering around him, trying to pull him in closer. He scrabbles for a moment, then his arms wrap around Herc’s shoulders, tugging him down while Chuck locks his ankles around Herc’s hips. It’s a hard clench around Herc that has him coming with a shout, that lays him out over Chuck’s chest, that has Herc resting his forehead on Chuck’s shoulder. His fingers are still wrapped around Chuck’s arm, and Chuck knows the pale skin will show purple smudges in a few hours, but for now, the firm grip steadies him, grounds them both.

It’s a sticky mess between them, but the warmth from Herc’s skin on his, the ragged panting as they catch their breath, it soothes Chuck. 

The way his hand runs over Herc’s shoulder and pulls him closer, the secret knowledge that Herc’s a useless snuggly lump after he comes hard, that brings a weak smile to Chuck’s mouth. Herc can work him over and wear him out, but Chuck - he’s nothing if not his father’s son.


End file.
